nine2five 2,14 Eureka
by Marc Vun Kannon
Summary: Special Agent Charles Bartowski wants his wife back, especially if he has to go through Volkoff to do it.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** There's a lot going on in this chapter, so I'm trying to keep it all more or less in chronological order, in spite of the location. I originally thought I'd have more time, but the story advanced itself on me and I still have plates to set spinning, and a bunch that I need to stop. This episode finishes off the Gobbler (finally) and moves right into some of Push Mix, but with our characters much better positioned than they were in canon.

RAB: Since my main rule in writing is never to do what's been done already, I'm glad you didn't expect that version of the seduction. I didn't expect it either.

Guest: You've captured the idea behind nine2five in a nutshell. Bear in mind the scriptwriters have lots of business constraints that I don't, though. I've only been able to do this story as quickly as I have because they did most of the heavy lifting for me, S3 especially. S4 is taking a lot more work on my part.

I've always preferred the third Back to the Future movie over the others, because it was slower-paced. That said…it's a blues riff in B, watch me for the changes, and try to keep up.

* * *

><p>"<em>Always look as if you belong."<em>

"_We're doomed."_

"_Any orchid can bloom in a hothouse." _

"_It's not the place, it's the woman."_

* * *

><p>Breakfast at Volkoff's compound, the day after Fatima Tazi's party…<p>

"Good morning, Father."

"And an excellent morning it is." Alexei Volkoff sliced into his breakfast steak with gusto, as Vivian settled in front of her usual fruit cup. "You remember that super-note enterprise I warned you off of?"

She sipped her tea to clear her mouth. "I remember you saying that it couldn't possibly go well."

He smiled at the understatement. "It didn't."

"How many agencies stepped in?" The ramifications of an American economic collapse would have been worldwide.

"Just one," said Volkoff, sounding only a little surprised. "But in this case, one was more than enough."

"Agent Charles?" she guessed. He would always be her first guess. "She had an army."

"An army of idiots. Worse than useless, against a single clever man."

She put her fork down. "How clever?"

"No idea," said her father, patting his lips with his napkin. "Riley had one of his best agents pose as a dancer. In the confusion she absconded with the security footage. When you've finished perhaps you and I can review it together."

She ate a bit faster. That 'perhaps' was only a bit of politeness on her father's part, and if her time here had taught her anything, it was that Alexei Volkoff was never more dangerous than when he was being polite.

* * *

><p>At Volkoff Industries HQ…<p>

Alexei and Vivian stepped out of the elevator to find Frost and her new shadow standing by his office door, with Frost just putting her hand to the scanner.

"Well, you're up nice and early," said the boss with approval.

"Yet you always seem to be ready for me," said Frost, turning his way.

"Not exactly," said Alexei. "Mixing business with pleasure. as Agent Charles did last night down in Marrakesh, before returning to Prague. We came up to do a little footage review. The real work of the day has yet to begin."

"So it won't set your schedule back any if I take my new personal trainer down to the gym for some hand-to-hand?"

"I thought she was injured," said Vivian, blandly.

"Then maybe this time I can keep up," said Frost, sounding equally unconcerned for Sarah's well-being.

"One hour, Frost," said Alexei, putting his hand to the plate. The doors unlocked, and he and Vivian went inside.

Frost and Sarah turned away, and Sarah handed Frost the little spider-bot that they'd used to deactivate the security, just a little over two minutes ago. The raid had gone splendidly, if you can call netting one name–'The Contessa'–splendid, but the escape put them in front of an elevator just about to open.

Frost tucked it in her pocket for disposal. "That was too close," she said. Something had disturbed Alexei's routine. She couldn't have that.

* * *

><p>"Look at his face," said Vivian softly.<p>

"He looks blasé," said Alexei, sounding blasé on the outside, anything but on the inside. Frost should be here with them, she loved to do analysis. Something was off with her, and he couldn't have that.

"Exactly, father." Vivian reached out to tap the screen. "Here he has this great bosomy thing on top of him and from his expression he might as well be lifting weights." She'd always known he would be above such…behavior.

Alexei chuckled. "I wouldn't call Fatima Tazi a 'thing', dear."

Men. "Believe me it's the politest of the things I would call her, even to her face."

Volkoff made a pained noise. "I doubt she has much of a face left. She was at ground zero of a missile attack."

She'd send them a thank-you note. "Who?"

Alexei pointed at Chuck's blasé face. "Her gentleman caller."

"Chuck would never be so crude."

Alexei shrugged. "The others on his team were all recorded elsewhere at the time."

"Then he didn't mean to do it."

That got a laugh. "Oh granted, a missile isn't exactly a precision instrument, but he did target the poor woman's bedroom. When you take action, you take the consequences of that action."

"Send me the footage," she said stubbornly. "I'll prove you wrong."

"Vivian, Vivian," muttered her father, but that didn't stop him sending her a copy of the file.

* * *

><p>Same place, later in the day…<p>

Vivian stopped by the computer department on her way for tea. Certainly they could have had it sent up but Father was always telling her to make the occasional appearance among the troops. Good for morale, and all that. Well, this would be good for _her_ morale. "I need your best graphics man."

Once the required underling was sent to her, she brought up the screenshot she'd carefully selected. The footage of the missile attack itself was disappointing, just the harlot and her latest mark, some old man, and the camera was destroyed before she could see what became of either of them. The recording had other uses, though. She pointed out those bits of Miss Tazi's body that she'd left in frame. "Do you see what this man is doing?"

He saw what he would have been doing if he'd been that man. "Yes, Miss Volkoff."

"Do you see his face?" she asked. When he acknowledged that he did, she stood up. "Put a smile on it."

* * *

><p>Washington DC, the same morning…<p>

General Beckman was hip-deep in back-dated deployment orders for the drone she'd re-purposed last night, when the chime came through her monitor. She touched the little stud without looking up. "This is General Beckman."

"General, I have part of that analysis you asked for," said Manoosh.

_Analysis of what?_ Right, the…thing. Clearly, it was too early for multi-tasking. "I'm listening."

"The pieces are fragments of a data repository, shaped like a glass eye. A crystalline lattice structure that can store multiple hard drives' worth of data on a molecular level."

"How much data, Mr. Depak?"

"Terabytes, ma'am," said Manoosh, excited. "Complete portability, with no loss of data. A few disks of this stuff could replace the Library of Congress."

_Or a criminal empire._ The crystal was smashed, yet Volkoff Industries was still a threat. And Sarah had not returned when she could have. Hunting the data? More crystals like this, or some other form of backup? Suddenly she realized that Manoosh was still going on about the new technology. "Thank you, Mr. Depak. Get this data to Agent Charles ASAP."

"Already done, General. We did a remote ULDS deployment to an existing on-site delivery device."

It was also too early for jargon. "I don't believe I'm familiar with that designation."

"I just made it up," said Manoosh. "It means an Ultra-Limited Data Set, very focused, minimal bandwidth. Ellie said to give it a field-test, since a courier would take too long. We have a device with a larger dataset in transit, just in case."

Thank God Ellie knew when not to wait for official sanction. "Very good."

"Uh, General?"

"You have something else?"

"Just that this tech is bleeding-edge, General. There can't be many people in the world capable of making such a thing."

How nice of him to notice. She nodded her approval. "Then that's your next project. Find out who could have constructed this crystal. We need to track down whatever data was on it, and we need to do it now!"

* * *

><p>In Prague, where late-returning agents had been allowed to sleep in...<p>

Casey pounded on the door, knowing better than to walk in on a sleeping agent. "Up and at 'em, Charles. You've got a package."

* * *

><p>Back in DC, a bit later, when multi-tasking was again possible…<p>

Her monitor chimed again, another welcome distraction. Sometimes Mr. Clark was just too efficient. "Beckman."

"General, we did that overflight," said Hannah.

"What were the results?"

"It's a house, ma'am." A series of photos appeared, taken as the satellite approached and then departed the area. Thermals indicated a single occupant. A low stone wall, a manicured lawn, a garden that showed both pride and skill in the making. "It looks…bucolic," said Beckman. "Anything underground?"

"Nothing we could see. Possibly a root cellar, but nothing with power."

"Why would Orion's computer target that house?"

"Did he…it?"

"I'm surprised your thermal imaging didn't reveal a large red 'X' right underneath." Beckman sighed. "But you're right. If we want to justify an incursion into allied space we need to perform all due diligence. Check the other possible sites, but don't expect to find anything. Get me a timeline, I'll put the team on alert."

* * *

><p>Prague…<p>

Casey sat back, putting the pair of downloading glasses to one side. The new program seemed to work as they said it would. Between Orion, Ellie, and Manoosh, what did he expect? "Alright, Bartowski, what have you got for me?" They were in a Quiet Room, where it was safe to use real names.

Chuck wasn't sure he liked this new technique. Sure it was lightweight, but he was used to getting a lot more bang for the flash. The whole point of the Intersect was to find connections and this ULDS had very few of those. Like throwing out a net and getting only one fish. "One name. Roni Eimacher." He started typing it into the computer.

Casey pulled up a pad and started punching in Beckman's number on the secure phone. "How do you spell that?"

* * *

><p>Volkoff HQ…<p>

Sarah, not having the run of the building, sat in her little blank empty office with her injured foot up. It suited her, four gray walls that provided a minimum of stimulation. Symphonic music played over the speakers, while her tablet contained an assortment of books and a variety of games to keep her occupied.

Someone slid an envelope under her door.

* * *

><p>Washington DC…<p>

"Mr. Depak, how are you coming with that analysis?"

"Putting together a list of possibles, General," he said. "Then I'll do a comparison of dates, to see who was doing what when. This project must have taken a big chunk of someone's time…"

"Is the name Roni Eimacher on that list?"

"Yes it is, General, and with high probability, not sure why. He doesn't seem to have been active in this area for years. I found a bunch of references in the current research but nothing current of his own. That seemed to do it for Hannah, though."

"She knows first-hand how frightening Volkoff can be, Manoosh," said Beckman, glad they were working together. Hopefully this Eimacher person was just in a different line of work, and not terminated. _Faith._ Frost wouldn't let Volkoff terminate an innocent. "Find Eimacher. We'll have a little chat with him ourselves."

* * *

><p>Volkoff HQ…<p>

Frost unlocked the door to the office where Sarah was basically being stored until needed. Like a stakeout but not as interesting. "Well, Agent Walker, are you ready for a–"

The room was empty. The music played, the furniture was intact, but the tablet was smashed. Frost sorted through the pieces and was about to sweep them into the trash when she noticed a wad of paper at the bottom of the bin. She pulled it out and swept in the debris, and then unfolded the wad, which took a surprisingly long time to do. The paper was quite large, but it had been compressed, squeezed into a tiny ball by extreme force.

Frost touched her own throat, well aware of the kind of strength Sarah had, the kind of extreme force she could apply. She smoothed the paper on the table, almost unable to see the details of the picture for all the creases.

Then she knew where Sarah had gone, was going, right now.

"Oh, Chuck."

* * *

><p>With a discreet tap on the door, an underling brought herself to the Master's attention. "Miss Frost sent this for you, sir."<p>

Volkoff grunted an imperative, and the woman placed the envelope into his outstretched hand. She knew better than to be around when he ripped into it and pulled out the single sheet of paper. He stared at the image for a second, and reached for his phone. "Frost? What is this?" Then he heard the noise. "Where are you?"

"I'm in the air, Alexei, taking the helicopter to the airport. I have to head her off."

Volkoff wasn't in the habit of asking questions that made him look stupid. The smile that he knew was drawn-on, the feathery feel of paper that had to have recently been ironed to flatten it again, all added up to one thing for a man who was very good at math. "Agent Walker's on her way to Prague."

"In a company car with a company credit card. I need to stop her before she destroys us."

Someday he and the CIA would be at loggerheads but it would come at a time of his own choosing. Today was not that day. "Bon chance." Volkoff hung up, grateful that Frost was on the job. Then he lifted the receiver again, and pressed a single button as he examined the picture more closely. "Vivian, could you come to my office, please?"

* * *

><p>Washington DC, hours later…<p>

Her monitor chimed. She pressed the stud without looking up. "This is General Beckman."

No one answered.

Now she looked up. A single icon sat in the middle of her screen, titled 'Archer's Music'. Why would Orion be contacting her now? Could he have gotten the anti-toxin to Russia already?

She opened the file, a receipt for merchandise she'd never sent or received, a CD titled 'La Contessa', for…five hundred thousand rubles? For that price she could buy a hammer _and_ a toilet seat. And why in rubles?

* * *

><p>A small airport in Prague…<p>

The plane touched down with a bump, braking hard. Frost waited until the plane had come to a stop, then rose and went to the door as the stewardess unsealed the door, and stood back. Frost gave the woman a friendly nod as she passed. Then she stopped.

Black hair?

Sarah hit Frost with the butt of her pistol, dropping the older woman to the floor. She stepped over Frost's unconscious body and out the door.

* * *

><p>Back in Washington…<p>

The number seemed familiar, hauntingly so. She could practically hear it in her memory, 'something-something-five-hundred-thousand-something'. A man's voice, not her aide's. She hadn't spoken to that many other men today.

She pressed the button on her monitor. "Manoosh."

"Yes, General?" said Manoosh, when the connection was made.

"Have you said the number five hundred thousand to me today, Mr. Depak?"

If he found the question strange, he didn't show it. "Yes, General. That's the equivalency of CDs to these crystal disks I told you about."

"Very good. Thank you." She killed the connection, working through Orion's puzzle. Five hundred thousand CDs equal one disk, and that disk was called the Contessa.

Who could that be? If they could find her they'd find Volkoff Industries, lock, stock, and barrel.

She touched the button again. "Hannah."

"Yes, General?"

"I have a priority project for you…"

* * *

><p>At the CIA Training Facility…<p>

Chuck opened the door to his room, but before he could hit the light switch a hand grabbed his wrist and threw him across the room. The door closed, and he rose to an attack position in the dark, the wall at his back.

Someone growled at him.

"Another training exercise, Casey?" Except he'd just left Casey…

A shadow moved, black on black, and Chuck struck out at it. The almost-invisible figure dodged, taking advantage of Chuck's extended position to force him out of his defensive position and into the center of the room. From there it was kick-dodge-parry-thrust time, as Chuck held his own against an opponent he could barely see. He was faster and stronger, but whoever this guy was, he seemed to know Chuck's every move. No one here could fight like this.

This was real. This person could kill him.

Suddenly the dark figure spun and kicked him right in the chest, knocking him down on the bed. A heavy weight settled over his waist and arms, pinning him to the mattress. A hand gripped his neck. "Sarah, wherever you are _I love you_!" he yelled, just to make sure it got said.

Something crashed into his mouth, probably to shut him up, silence him, smother him. Then he realized that it was a pair of lips. He _knew_ those lips, that scent, the texture of that hair…"Sarah?"

Frantic dingers pressed 1-2-1-2 on both sides of his face.

He rolled her over and touched the light, desperate to see. "Oh my god," he said in a tone of wonder. Kiss. That smile. Kiss. Those eyes. Kiss. That hair? He touched a few dark strands. "This isn't right. I feel like I'm cheating on you, with you. Does that sound strange?"

Sarah rolled him back over and got up off the bed. Pointing firmly to keep him right where he was, she went into his bathroom and came back with a towel, wrapped around her hair. It wasn't the usual blonde but it was much better than black. Chuck felt like his heart was beating again. "God I've missed you."

Sarah started removing her clothes. She'd missed him more, and she was always better with actions than with words.

* * *

><p>Back in Moscow…<p>

Volkoff pinched the bridge of his nose. "An overnight bag?"

"_My_ overnight bag," said Frost over the phone, vastly annoyed. Sarah had even taken her car, forcing to use this POS. Plus she had a headache. "No one noticed it, even though I didn't bring anything with me." Rule one of any successful infiltration.

In the background Frost thought she heard Vivian say "Can we kill her now?" but with traffic noise it was hard to be sure.

"You must bring her back, Frost," said Volkoff. "Whether she achieves her objective or not, we'll need her as a bargaining chip."

"I'll stuff her back in the bag myself."

* * *

><p>Sarah sat on the bed, watching her <em>Wonderful <em>husband sleep, holding his _Wonderful _hand. She squeezed, he squeezed back, even in sleep. Hard, strong. _Wonderful_

She looked at her own hand. Grief. Yes.

His pain, her pain.

Comfort. Yes.

Pain shared is pain halved.

Love. Oh, very yes. Her body still quivered with the love they'd made. She leaned over him, body to body. _Wonderful_

He twitched. "No," he said, and she sat back quickly, but he spoke to a dream. "Don't make me…" He lifted his hand, fingers curled loosely.

She gripped his hand, pressed it to her face, and he calmed, his whole body curling toward her. "Sarah…"

1-2-1-2.

Sarah Bartowski lied to her husband. All was not well. They'd hurt him, damaged him.

_They._

Not a word, not a sound. Years of her life flashed before her eyes as they curdled into one indigestible clot. A congealed lump of history. They'd hurt her too.

They.

The gun in his hand was _them. _The strength in his hand, in his heart, to do what he hated, was him. She touched his _Wonderful _chest. _Lub. Dub._ He smiled, a 'Sarah' smile.

Her Chuck. Her precious. Her smile.

Not theirs. The woman in the picture was _them_. The fake smile on his face was _them_. They tried to take him from her.

She grieved for him, but raged at _them_.

Someone pounded on the door, disturbing her _Wonderful _husband's rest. His head moved, his grip tightened on her hand, and her fragile thoughts shattered and scattered in the rising winds.

"Charles! Up and at 'em! Time to fight the good fight."

_They. _Not her.

She growled, throaty and voiceless. He was her lover, not a fighter.

She was the fighter.

* * *

><p>Casey knew he was in trouble the second the door opened. Sarah had recently terrorized a country, and she'd only gotten more unstable since then, in Volkoff's company. "Walker," he said sharply, trying to get her attention, but even as he said it he knew he'd made a serious mistake.<p>

Sarah's lips curled in a silent snarl. _Don't call me Walker!_

Casey reeled as her deadly left leg made the point very clearly. Three names and the only one he could use would get him killed.

He fought back as best he could, but she was faster and always had been. He'd always counted on strength and endurance over all that ninja crap. It wasn't like he wanted to hurt her, either, she wasn't in her right mind.

Ow! Or any mind. She was like some homicidal ninja robot, set on high. Like she wouldn't stop until he was dead.

_Hmm. Not a bad idea._

He backed away, leading her down the hall and coincidentally away from any sleeping trainees who might come out at the wrong moment and add to this chaos. He turned his head slightly to make sure he was going in the right direction and she nearly took it off. She grabbed his arm and slammed him up against the window. He pushed back and shoved her away from him, but that only set him up for her deadly kick.

Casey stumbled back and crashed through the window.

* * *

><p>Washington, twilight-time after a very long day…<p>

Her monitor chimed and General Beckman sighed. Why wasn't Mr. Clarke handling all these calls? "This is General Beckman."

"General, I've got some bad news, from Prague," said a man with a serious-but-friendly voice. "Agent Charles is dead, murdered by a mysterious assassin known only as the Black Widow."

Beckman blinked. "Really?"

"I'm afraid so, ma'am. She pushed him out a window and he fell to his death. I knew you'd want to be informed straightaway."

"You were correct. This is terrible news. Thank you, Mister…?"

* * *

><p>Prague, on the other end of the line…<p>

"Bartowski, General," said Chuck holding up his new credentials and reading the name proudly. "Special Agent Charles I. Bartowski. You're most welcome. Good night."

"'Fell to his death'?" sneered Casey. "We were only on the third floor. I could handle sixty feet, easy."

Chuck put the little wallet in his jacket pocket. "Good thing Sarah didn't know that, otherwise she might have jumped after you to finish the job." He picked up his new gun.

Casey grunted a negative. "If she really wanted me dead she'd have killed me in the hall." He saw Chuck handling his gun and frowned. "I hated that pouch, hated it, Until I saw they'd assigned you a tranq pistol as your official weapon." He shook his head. "Only you. Guess I should be glad, though. If they gave you a gun for real she might get mad for real, and we know who she'd take it out on."

Chuck put the gun away with all proper caution. If he tranqed himself just holstering his weapon Casey would never let him live it down. "How do I look?"

Casey grunted reluctant approval. "You know none of us wanted this for you, right?"

"Tell that to the Belgian," said Chuck. He didn't want this for himself either, but what could he do. He'd never been a shirker before, and he wasn't about to start now. "Or my mother. My father and my sister, too, for that matter. Face it, Casey, it's destiny."

"It's not destiny, Bartowski. Destiny implies that someone cares. This is just fate, and fate screws everybody." Casey snatched up his own jacket. "Now come on, I've got a mission to England and I'm already a man down." Casey went for the door but stopped just before he opened it, and turned to Chuck. He held out his hand. "Agent Charles is dead."

Chuck smiled and took it like a man.

Casey nodded. "Long live Agent Bartowski."

* * *

><p><strong>AN2 **Sarah's scene in the bed was hardest to write, critically important yet she had no words to do it with. Like The Buffy episode Hush, she only had her actions and her feelings. If the first thing that popped into your mind after reading "They tried to take him from her" was "She would kill them for that", then I did my job right.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N **A bit slower-paced, this time around.

* * *

><p>"<em>One was more than enough."<em>

"_She knows first-hand how frightening Volkoff can be."_

"_God I've missed you." _

"_Long live Agent Bartowski."_

* * *

><p>CIA training facility in Prague, pre-coverup…<p>

The sound of breaking glass brought Sarah to her senses. _Casey! _Too late his name echoed in the vast empty spaces of her mind. She ran up to the hole in the frame and looked out, saw him down below on the grass, unmoving.

Running bare feet made little sound on the floor, but she caught it just in time to pull away from the jagged hole as someone else–as Chuck slammed into the frame and looked for himself. "Casey?"

She backed away from his question.

He looked up at her. "Sarah, what did you do?"

She ran away from his question. From him. From everything.

Chuck thought about running after her, but when doors started to open in the corridor he realized he had footage to doctor first. And Casey.

"What's going on, Agent Charles?" While technically a trainee, according to the carefully mis-doctored paperwork, none of the other trainees thought of him as one of themselves.

_What _was_ going on?_ When in doubt (and it's your wife), lie. "The Black Widow," said Chuck, pulling the name out of long-ago air, "She came for me but she got Casey instead. You, organize a search, I've got to see about my handler." He ran off, in the opposite direction from the one Sarah'd taken, secure in the knowledge that by the time a search could be put together she'd be long gone.

He went from landing to landing in a single bound. It was good to be tall, sometimes.

"Casey!" he yelled as he ran across the concrete, to the little patch of grass the big man had miraculously managed to hit. He dropped to his knees, trying to recall proper medical procedures for injuries from a fall. Ellie made sure all that stuff was in the Intersect, hopefully some of it was still in his head.

"Is she gone yet?" asked Casey, unmoving.

"Huh?"

"Is she _gone_ yet?" Casey could be remarkably snide without moving his lips.

"Yeah," said Chuck. "Yeah, I think so."

"Good." Casey sat up, brushing schmutz off his arms. He gave Chuck a wary look. "We need to call this in. I'm sorry, Chuck." Chuck watched his handler, intently. "What?"

The emotions of the night leeched away from Chuck's face, leaving only nerdish resolve, which doesn't look like anything. "Don't be, Colonel," he said, helping Casey up from the ground. "I can use this." He could and would use anything, would do whatever he had to do.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile…<p>

Sarah ran back to the car she'd stolen from Frost, desperate to escape, a notion of where to escape _to_ not even a wisp of a thought compared to what she was escaping _from_. That look of pain in Chuck's eyes, that confusion. The confusion in her, when she found no answer for his question and all of its echoes, shards and splinters of the original as it broke through her vast emptiness. So many.

What did she do? What _did_ she do? What had she done? Echoes of a past she worked very hard to never think about told her, like sonar, that she damn well knew what she had done. What she had become.

What _had_ she become? Not something that wanted to know itself, certainly. The walls that Chuck never seemed to tire of knocking down had been as much to keep this in as to keep all others out.

Her darkness had seemed so infinite, there in the dark. Once in the light it didn't. But if darkness was the absence of light, was evil the absence of good? No one had ever taught her to be good. _They_ taught her nothing but how to be useful to _them_. Only Chuck…She needed–

_Chuck would hate that._ Those four words stopped her, pinned her with truth. He would hate anything that limited her, even if it happened to be some version of himself. His chief joy was in breaking her bonds, setting her free to become whatever she would become. Whatever that would be.

She looked down at herself. Not this.

She'd only wanted to protect her father, and they used that against her. Told her to think bigger. Protect others, serve the greater good. They promised they would help her do that, and they lied. They hadn't made her any bigger than she'd already been. They just gave her better tools, their tools, while leaving her the same small thing she'd been before. Once, twice maybe, she'd gotten to be the girl she wanted to be, and then she met Chuck.

That was a self she wanted to be. Chuck's protector, and now his wife, and maybe…She spread a hand over her belly. She wanted him to be happy, and he would be happy when she was…herself. Whoever that was.

She started running again. She'd find that girl somewhere up ahead.

* * *

><p>Still in Prague, still running, but now running <em>to<em> instead of simply running _from_…

She hit the car door but before she could open it she turned around. She was surrounded by men with guns. More of _them._

Before she could do anything stupid someone shot a taser into her back through the open car window. Every muscle in Sarah's body stiffened, as Frost reached out through the window to catch her belt. A female operative came forward to catch Agent Walker from the front and lower her to the street. Two men stepped forward with cuffs ready as Frost killed the current.

"Toss her in the back," said Frost. She pointed at the keys on the ground. "I'll take those." The woman handed them to her as her boss (but not Frost's) came up. "Riley, watch the facility for the next hour. Inform me of any activity."

He frowned down at her. "You don't need to teach me my business, Frost."

"No, I don't. Your team is very effective."

Riley didn't respond to the compliment. "Of course they are." He watched her drive away, before dispersing his team with quick and angry gestures. "Jasmine, get ready to do your thing." She nodded, and unbuttoned the top button of her blouse.

* * *

><p>The coverup (or rather, the Chuck version of a coverup, which consists not so much of covering something up as uncovering something that was already covered up)…<p>

Chuck and Casey closeted themselves in Casey's room. Chuck went to the phone while Casey went to his luggage. "Bartowski, wait," said Casey. He had to stop the moron before he did something moronic. "You don't have to do this, you know."

"I'm done hiding, Casey," said Chuck, as he tried to come up with properly coded phrases for this call.

"I figured as much." Casey turned around. "Got something for you."

Chuck waited, noting the pouch that Casey held in his hands, but watching the man who held it.

"The General gave me this a long time ago, just in case you got cocky," said Casey, opening the bag and reaching inside. He pulled out a pistol.

Chuck looked at the weapon, then shifted his gaze to his handler's face. "Casey?"

Casey reversed the gun and handed it to Chuck, grip first. "Congratulations, Special Agent Bartowski." Chuck stepped forward to take the–his gun, and Casey threw the pouch and the rest of its contents to him. "You're gonna need some proper credentials to go with that attitude. Just make sure I don't regret this."

* * *

><p>Still Prague, but post-coverup…<p>

Jasmine strolled out of the outer reaches of the facility as casually as she'd sauntered in, buttoning herself up. "She killed Agent Charles. Tore up his room, fought him into the hall, and pushed him out a window. They're calling her the Black Widow."

"Dammit," said Riley. The worst-case scenario, already spinning out of his control. He pulled out his phone.

"Movement, south side," said one of his men over the radio. "A car with no lights and…there they go."

"Pursue," ordered Riley, getting into the back seat as Jasmine took the wheel. He'd inform the boss. If Volkoff decided to inform Frost, that was his business.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, at a local airport…<p>

"Grab her feet," said Frost, as she took Sarah's shoulders, and together they womanhandled Sarah into the plane. "Right down here."

They left Sarah lying on the floor. The stewardess brought a drink as Frost got a proper weapon and sat down.

Sarah turned her head and stared at her from ankle-level.

Frost stared back. "You've caused enough trouble."

* * *

><p>In a different piece of air…<p>

They checked in over a more secure network once they reached cruising altitude.

"Complete silence?" asked Beckman.

"Yes, General," said Chuck, excuse me, Special Agent Bartowski. "We had an encounter in my quarters–"

Beckman pulled back from her monitor. "Agent Bartowski, no one needs or wants to–"

"She attacked me, General. We fought. In the dark. I thought it might be another exercise but she was too good to be any of the trainers. I thought she might be an assassin until she kissed me."

"Moving on," said the General. "Colonel, I take it your encounter with Sarah was similar." Sans kissing.

"Not very, ma'am, no. If she'd fought Bartowski like she fought me, he'd have known it was her straight away. She was out for blood."

"_Your_ blood?"

"What did you do, Casey?"

"I didn't do anything, Bartowski. Just pounded on your door like usual."

"Not exactly a killing offense," said Beckman. "Do we know where she went?"

"No, General," said Chuck. "But that shouldn't be a problem. I got something into her while she was in my room–"

"Bartowski!"

"Just a needle tracker, Casey, I didn't have anything else." Chuck winked as Ellie rolled her eyes.

"Amusing, Mr. Bartowski," said Beckman, sounding vastly amused. Ellie cleared her throat. "Doctor? Anything to add?"

"The Atroxeum team has been doing some longitudinal studies–"

"In less than a week?" asked Chuck. "How?"

"By using test subjects with a metabolism six times faster than a human's, little brother. Don't interrupt." She composed herself in a professional manner. "The toxin incapacitates quickly but kills slowly. The antitoxin, absorbed through the skin over time, had unpredictable effects, though, ranging from vicious savagery to catatonia." She gave Chuck a look. "The effect in humans would probably be similar, but mixed. The mind is more flexible, but allows for multiple dimensions of fear." She made a sad little smile. "All things considered, though, I'm happy with the way things have turned out."

"Explain."

"The toxin acts more subtly, in someone trained to resist fear. Without the antitoxin Sarah probably would have gotten herself killed by now. She's in distress but she's alive to be that way, and show symptoms. I can't treat a dead person."

* * *

><p>"Blast." Alexei Volkoff laid the phone down gently, spun his chair around slowly, and looked out the window with an attitude of gentle contemplation. Contemplating how quickly his empire could be stripped from him, if the Americans struck before he was ready.<p>

"What is it, Father?"

"Agent Charles is dead, and Agent Walker killed him." Volkoff missed Vivian's look of horror, and hatred. "They're calling her the Black Widow, the same name they used when she retrieved Yuri for me. This does not bode well."

"What shall we do?" Handing Sarah Walker over gift-wrapped, or merely letting her go, preferably off a thirty-story building, topped her list.

"Never you fear. I've prepared for this eventuality, Frost insisted, although she left the details up to me. In case she was captured, she didn't want to be able to give up my location." He took one last look out the window at the city, his city. The Americans would rue this day. "Time to withdraw. Pack your things, Vivian. We'll leave shortly to visit the Contessa."

* * *

><p>Casey put his magazine down as the passengers from America started to come into the debarkation lounge. Their own flight had gotten in a while ago, but of course not so long that there was a reason or time to get a hotel room to wait in. He could tough it out if he had to but after the night he'd had, he wouldn't have minded a softer place to wait. Not to mention the constant tap-tap-tapping of Chuck's keyboard was driving him nuts.<p>

Finally he spotted red hair, and stood up, whacking Chuck's shoulder to get his attention. Casey nodded as Carina walked up to them. "You heard?"

"Yeah." She turned to look at Chuck, and offered her hand. "Bartowski, huh?"

Chuck took it. "Miller, huh?"

"Nope," she said with a smile. "But it's safest."

* * *

><p>"He called her 'Miller'," said Riley into his phone, glad that someone on his team could read lips. Airport crowds were good cover, but they made any kind of listening devices useless. Cameras were much easier. His team was spread all over. "They're moving fast, so expedite."<p>

* * *

><p>No one spoke as they left the building, too many potential ears swirling around. While they could have gotten some gear from the local CIA substation, that would have alerted British authorities to something they wanted kept close in hand. So they found themselves at the local car rental agency instead, renting a car like normal people. Without the missiles.<p>

"Anything come in lately?" asked Carina, as soon as they hit the road.

"They found Eimacher," said Chuck from the back seat. "He had an online gaming group that was pretty popular."

"There's a guy with no sense of self-preservation," muttered Casey.

"Casey, this guy wasn't just cutting-edge, he was the spear-point in his field, and he gave that up, so I have to say I disagree with you."

Carina shrugged, keeping an eye on traffic. "If Volkoff didn't kill him right away he probably wasn't going to. Did he have anything useful to say?"

* * *

><p>Forty minutes before, somewhere in Washington…<p>

Hannah clutched at her hair. "The Contessa's a boat?"

"Well, 'ship', technically."

"Do you have any idea how much European lesser nobility I just plowed through? Technically?"

Manoosh winced. "I'm guessing too much."

* * *

><p>In the air to Moscow…<p>

"Whatever you did, I hope it was worth it to you," said Frost. "Alexei's going to want you in a hole, and Vivian will want to throw you in it herself. I have other uses for your abilities but this will force my hand."

Sarah just looked at her. Her Chuck's mother, another one of _them._

Suddenly Frost smiled, looking younger. "But you couldn't stay away, could you? You saw his face, you knew where he was. I doubt I could have done any differently, if I'd been in your place." Not that she ever had been. Stephen was a scientist, not a field agent.

Sarah, watching her face, saw the mask slip, the smile drop. Not one of them, after all.

Frost checked her watch, and looked out the window. "Excuse me," she said, walking forward.

Sarah watched her go, already knowing what Frost was about. She'd felt it with her entire body. The plane had changed course.

* * *

><p>"Okay," said Casey, as Chuck was under their car disabling it. Hard to claim to be stranded when your car was in plain sight. "What's the deal? English guy, American fiancée?"<p>

"Jolly good," said the car.

Casey hefted his bag. "I guess that makes me the hitchhiker." He smiled and raised his thumb.

"Like anyone would ever pick _you_ up," scoffed Carina, shuddering.

"Don't be silly, dear," said Chuck in his best Monty Python as he clambered to his feet. "We did."

Casey did his best Lurch. "Your gonna have to do better than that."

"I will, Casey," said Chuck, in his normal voice. "I just need to hear a sample of the local accent first. Wouldn't do to sound like too much of a tourist."

* * *

><p>He didn't sound like a tourist. As they sat with Mrs. Winterbottom drinking tea, Chuck decided he sounded like a slightly less apologetic Gregory Tuttle. "I'm pretty sure my father came through here a long time back, before my time, really," he said at last. "Early eighties, thereabouts. Place doesn't seem to have changed much from the way he described it."<p>

"What was his name?" asked Mrs. Winterbottom.

"Hunter," said Chuck. "Stephen Hunter."

"Was he a tall bloke?" she asked. "Long shaggy hair?"

"You remember him?"

"I remember he left something here," said Mrs. Winterbottom. "Always thought he'd pop 'round back for it sooner or later."

"Yes, well, that's my dad," said Chuck. "A second-star-to-the-right-and-straight-on-til-morning' sort of fellow."

"You can have it if you want it," said the old woman. "But you'll have to carry it, it's rather heavy."

Chuck put his teacup down. "My pleasure."

And that's how he came to be standing in a hall, looking down a shotgun.

* * *

><p>"Gimmicked," said the thug under the car. "It'd take them two minutes to fix this."<p>

"Kill it and follow," said Riley. He'd been up all night and his feet hurt in these shoes. They really weren't made for walking over this ground.

* * *

><p>"Who the hell are you?" Mrs. Winterbottom demanded, rage and grief coloring her voice. "Sounding like Hartley and asking about Stephen." She gestured with the shotgun, never actually taking it off beam. "Tell me before I ruin my wallpaper!"<p>

Chuck put his hands in the air. "Ma'am, I'm not actually looking for Stephen, I have a pretty good notion of where he is, actually, and I don't think I've ever met, uh, Hartley. I'm with the CIA."

"So you're saying you work for the people who took my son? Disavowed him, abandoned him?" No grief now, just rage. "No one lifted a finger!"

Chuck lifted a finger. "My dad did. He spent his whole life trying to help your son, trying to help Hartley."

Her anger gave way to surprise. "You're Stephen Bartowski's boy?"

Chuck nodded, and offered a bit more. "And his wife, Mary. They were also called Orion and Frost, you know how the CIA is…"

Apparently she did. Surprise gave way to terrible, terrible hope, and the shotgun pointed elsewhere. "Are you going to fix my son?"

Which was when the gunfire started.

* * *

><p>Frost came back and sat down. "We're diverting to St. Petersburg," she said to Sarah. "What's in St. Petersburg?" she said to herself.<p>

* * *

><p>Chuck and Carina were in the cellar, looking for Hartley's spy will while Casey held off the enemy assault team, when the machine gun started firing. They hadn't brought one with them.<p>

"You don't suppose Casey was adopted, do you?" asked Chuck.

"No, but I'm pretty sure he'd like to be."

* * *

><p>"<em>The Contessa<em>?" said Vivian. "I thought you meant a person."

Volkoff eyed the converted freighter with a smile. "I bought her years ago, from Craigslist Dubai. Do you like her?"

"She's…lovely," said Vivian.

"Come aboard, we'll get some ice cream, and I'll give you a tour until Frost arrives."

* * *

><p>Crouched behind the stone wall at the back of the house, Mrs. Winterbottom gave the twine in her hands a good hard pull. A bird chirped.<p>

"Was something supposed to happen?" asked Carina.

"Only if they were damn fools," said the nice old lunatic. A non-fool would have grabbed the twine first thing. "But now I know where they are." She reached into a pocket and pulled out a detonator.

"Mom," said Casey.

"Such a nice boy," she cooed back, and pressed the button.

* * *

><p>The car wouldn't start without some real work so they made a call to the General while they waited for a towtruck. Hartley's mum waited outside the car after her debriefing, completely on board with the concept of 'need to know'. She'd gotten along famously with 'Diane', who offered to rebuild her house, through MI6 auspices of course, as a small repayment for her years of patient suffering, and service. No one needed to give General Beckman lessons in loyalty.<p>

The box that held the box that held Hartley's spy will also held the key, and Chuck on one end of the call and Ellie on the other lost no time opening it to see what it was that their father had worked so hard to get them to see. But seeing was not necessarily believing, or even understanding.

"So Alexei Volkoff is really a British scientist named Hartley Winterbottom?" asked Beckman incredulously. "How could that happen, thirty years ago? We can't even do that now."

"No we can't, General," said Ellie. "And neither could they, but they didn't have to. I know exactly what happened."

* * *

><p><strong>AN2 **I didn't want to rewrite the Winterbottom scene, but as it stood it didn't quite fit in with this version of the story. Chuck didn't know about Hartley at all, for one thing. Not to mention all the little plot holes I spotted, which I was able to fill in and paper over.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N** A bit of backstory, the Frost/Volkoff history as seen from the outside. Ellie's been pretty busy these last few weeks. I tried to make it more active than just an info-dump, failing that, I tried to keep it short.

FF is giving me formatting issues. My scene break lines keep disappearing.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"_I'm done hiding, Casey."_

"_Bartowski, huh?"_

"_You couldn't stay away, could you?"_

"_I know exactly what happened."_

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

General Beckman greeted the news with her customary enthusiasm. "I trust you will share _this_ theory with us, Doctor."

"The key word here," said Ellie, sounding not a bit chastened, "Is 'polyzygotic.' Remember it, little brother."'

"I'm remembering it, sis," said Chuck. "What am I remembering?"

"It refers to a pregnancy resulting from two or more fertilized eggs."

Now Chuck had the same confused look as his partners. "I doubt Volkoff is pregnant, sis."

"No, but Hartley is," said Ellie, "In a manner of speaking. The Agent X files you unlocked are records of very early trials with a very primitive version of the Intersect. I'm pretty certain it's the original version."

"Wait a minute, Doctor, I thought Chuck got the original version," said Casey.

"Chuck got the original version of what might be a gen-2 or even gen-3 program, Casey. Hartley got the gen-0 prototype, barely capable of implanting a single memory."

"Ah, polyzygotic," said Chuck in a voice of great enlightenment.

Someone who wasn't Carina growled at him, "That better mean you understand what she's talking about, Bartowski."

Chuck raised a hand, and Casey stopped distracting him. "And how many of these singleton memories did he get, El?"

"Too many, Chuck, and the trend over time does not look good. The early trials are okay, but the later ones just cannot be from the sources listed on the forms."

Chuck picked up one of the disks in the box. "We may have something for you there, sis."

"So, wait," said Carina, trying to make sense of what she was hearing, "You're saying that Hartley went looking for memories, to turn himself into Volkoff?"

"He went looking for memories to make himself into something," said Ellie. "But he went too far."

"Typical mad scientist," snorted Casey.

"You gonna say that to his mother?" asked Carina.

Casey looked out the window at Mrs. Winterbottom, smiled, and gave her a thumbs-up.

Now it was Carina's turn to snort derisively. "Mama's boy."

"So Volkoff is like Carmichael?" asked Chuck.

"Not a bit, Chuck," said Ellie decisively. "Carmichael _lost_. You didn't want to live out that fantasy."

Chuck wasn't so sure. _"__I need you!"_

_Carmichael shook his head. "You've never needed me. You just need this!" He spread-eagled his body in the air._

"Did Mom and Dad know about this?" asked Chuck, shaking the memory out of his head.

"They must have suspected something," said Ellie. "Probably they expected the memories to fade, but the code was too crude, too powerful. It was about this time Mom started disappearing for no reason, and Dad started working on the code for that panel."

"To remove these, uh, singletons?" asked Beckman.

"I think so, General, but putting them in is a lot easier than pulling them out. It wasn't long before he started working on a more global version of the code, which is what Chuck eventually uploaded. The singletons would be embedded in that, and then he could remove the whole thing at once. Or at least that was the theory."

Chuck got a faraway look in his eyes.

"What happened that time?" asked Casey, taking advantage. Something awful and nightmarish, he was sure, because this was the Intersect.

"Ted Roarke happened. Dad had to run away, and try to develop the code while on the run. This slowed everything down considerably." Not to mention the consequences to her personally, and Chuck, but they wouldn't have known it from her voice. "Didn't you ever wonder why Dad could build the removal program so quickly, once he had access to Roarke's labs?"

From the look on Casey's face the answer was 'No'.

Chuck chose that moment to rejoin the group. "So you're saying the panel in our basement was meant for Volkoff?"

"I was hoping you wouldn't notice that part, Chuck," said Ellie. "I'm sure it was meant for him, but you were in the way with Sarah behind you. Mom couldn't have known it would hurt you."

_Hurt me? _"She could have ended Volkoff right there, sis, and I stopped her. How else could I feel?"

"I'm sorry, Chuck, I wasn't thinking," said Ellie. "I meant the Intersect, and the skills. The 2.0 plugged the skills in where the singletons were supposed to go. Dad's panel…cut them loose."

"Well, that explains a lot," said Casey into the silence.

Chuck lifted his hands. Loose inside him. The shots that killed Gaez. Were they reflexive? "She said Dad never wanted me to see it."

"I wouldn't have either. Hitting you with this was like hitting an eggshell with a hammer."

Chuck dropped his hands into his lap. Carina put her hand in one, and squeezed. Chuck looked at her, and she gave him a smile.

"Mr. Bartowski," said General Beckman, after a moment, "I am sorry."

"That's _Agent_ Bartowski, General," said Chuck, knowing she would take it as he meant it. "Maybe Volkoff isn't like Carmichael, but I could be like Volkoff." 'Now I know he was wrong,' his mother had said. Wrong about what? Sure it could have been a simple random comment, designed to confuse him, or he could have been…what, some kind of test case? Or maybe she knew what it would do and wanted it to happen. He'd likely never know his mother's mind, but he knew what he had to do about it. Hartley lost himself to the memories. _I have to own these skills, before they own me. _"Maybe I need to be."

"For what conceivable purpose?"

"I'm going to get my wife back, General, and complete my mother's mission."

Casey put his hand on top of Carina's, on top of Chuck's. "We can't let Mom…I mean, Mrs. Winterbottom suffer any more."

"We won't, Casey. We're going to end this."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

St. Petersburg…

The cold air reeked. Rotting vegetation, rusting metal, and oil.

Frost put her hand on Sarah's leg. "Here at last," she said, while tapping 1-3-1-3. Suddenly she looked concerned. "How are your _hydra_tion levels?" She smacked the seat in front of her imperatively. "Water."

The bodyguard passed a bottle back and Sarah drank gratefully. The air in the plane was a bit dry.

They waited until the guards had moved into position, then Frost opened her door, keeping a grip on the chain linking Sarah's wrists together as she got out and Sarah, necessarily, followed. The gangway bounced under a heavy tread as they approached.

"Frost," said Alexei, enfolding her in a hug. "Welcome to the Contessa, my floating fortress of fun." He looked at Sarah's hands. "Taking no chances, I see."

"Would you?"

Volkoff touched Sarah's cheek. "Out of this dangerous nettle we shall yet pluck the flower of safety." He turned and walk away, and they followed. "Captain, you may get under way when you are ready."

"So quickly," mused Frost, so softly that only Sarah could make out the words. "I wouldn't have expected us to make our move until tonight."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

On the way to St. Petersburg…

"You think she'll get there okay?" asked Casey, tippity-tapping with his pencil as he considered alternative scenarios.

"She's on a government plane, she'll be met by a government driver, who'll take her to a government office where she'll deliver top-secret government property," said Carina. The semi-pro havoc-maker shook her head. Mrs. Winterbottom had been offered, and joyfully accepted, the task of delivering her son's spy will to 'that lovely woman in the states.'

"Honestly," added Chuck, plugging another flash drive into his computer, "I'm more worried about the pilots, drivers, and secretaries."

"Smart," said Carina, nodding as she read her trashy romance novel. "Speaking of dangerous women, Chuck, any explosions lately, in the St. Petersburg area?"

Casey said nothing, but Chuck filled the gap for him. "What makes you think she's even there, Carina? We couldn't get a signal from my tracker."

Suddenly Casey leaned over and started rapping on Chuck's head with his knuckles. "Hello! Think, Bartowski, think!" Satisfied that he'd gotten his trainee's attention, he sat back in his seat. "Those guys didn't find us at the cottage by a lucky guess. They followed us from Prague, and if they were watching us there–"

"They could have been watching for Sarah too."

"Bingo," said Casey, "But I'd think it was the other way around. Even if Volkoff was ready for war he'd want to have his nearest and dearest with him, and Sarah on hand to bargain with, but I doubt he's ready for war."

Carina stopped pretending she was interested in the trash on the page. Her diary was more interesting. "Either way he's got Sarah and Frost on board with him, hence–"

"'Hence'?" said Casey.

Carina stuck out her tongue at his sneer-by-implication, then looked at Chuck. "_Hence_ my question, which you still haven't answered."

Chuck checked the overheads quickly. "Uh, no, no explosions yet," he said. "She must be waiting for us."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

On the Contessa…

"What are we waiting for, Father?" asked Vivian as she came onto the bridge. "I thought we'd be out to sea by now." From the look of things they'd managed to get a few hundred yards from shore, but no further.

"There have been…developments since you went to take your rest, my dear." He indicated the professionals as they worked over something. "Our departure has been delayed due to mechanical difficulties." Volkoff licked his ice cream cone. "Armand suspects sabotage."

"Armand always suspects sabotage."

"That doesn't make him wrong."

"No, just dull and predictable," said Vivian. "Has anyone checked on Agent Walker?"

He knew she'd ask that. "In Frost's personal charge. Armand is interrogating Hydra's security recordings for clues." He went to check the logs, and verify that that was _all_ his security man was checking.

"Does she know how to pick a lock?"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Off the Contessa…

Chuck poked his head above water, amazed at their good fortune. Getting aboard while the Contessa was underway would have been much more difficult.

"Sightsee later, Bartowski," said Casey. "If this scow starts moving we're fish food."

"Relax." Chuck pulled a mike from inside his cowl. "Bedrock, this is Graboid."

"Graboid, you are go for insertion. Two guards, fore and aft. They rest are under cover."

Chuck held up two fingers for his team, and their relative positions. "Roger, Bedrock." He fired a pneumatic pistol, shooting a grappling hook up to the rail.

They scaled the side of the ship up to the railing, vaulting over it and into the shadows as the irregularities in the guards' patrolling allowed. "Idiots," said Casey, as they rearmed from their waterproof bags.

Carina smiled as she coiled the grapple cable. "They're thugs on a boat, not Marines."

"If I had my way they'd be thugs _off_ a boat." The short way. Unfortunately, the best way to make them think they hadn't been penetrated was to let the outer picket continue as they were.

Chuck touched his mike. "Phase one complete. See you when we're done."

"Good luck guys."

Chuck lifted his laptop. "All right team, time to get hacking." He led the way into the ship in search of a connection.

As Carina followed, Casey whispered in her ear, "And here I thought the piranha was a _tropical_ fish."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

On the other side of the ship…

Frost emerged from a hatchway, all in black, followed by her silent shadow in breakaway shackles. It appeared that Volkoff's top lieutenant was simply making her usual rounds, in a different place, but appearances could be deceiving.

"Twenty years I've been working for this," said Frost, her voice almost quivering. _So close, so close!_ She cleared her throat, forced the hope down. "I'd still be waiting, if it weren't for you and your team. Thank you."

Sarah smiled, but put a finger to her lips.

Frost sighed. "I know." The finish line was only in sight, they still had to cross it. Now was not the time to slow down. "I just wanted to make sure it got said, whatever happens tonight." She squared her shoulders, once more firmly in control. "Let's not keep Orion waiting."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Volkoff was reading quietly in his quarters when the lights suddenly went out. Instantly he slid out of his chair, crawling across the carpet to his desk, and the intercom. No connection. He was on his own.

Light flickered behind him.

Someone pounded on the door. "Father, it's me!" said Vivian. He opened the door and there she was, holding a weapon as Frost had trained her, hands shaking only slightly. She slipped inside and he sealed the hatch behind her. "Are we under attack?"

"Yes," said Volkoff, "But not how you think." He pointed at the only light source in the room.

The big monitor on the wall was lit, displaying only a few words. _I want my wife back, Alexei._

Her father chuckled. "Orion is finally making his move." He uncapped the speaking tube, an antiquity that he was very glad he'd left in place. "Send me Armand."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

On the upper deck…

Chuck tucked his laptop behind a desk, out of sight but not of mind.

Casey looked out the window at the darkened boat, trying to keep track of all the men milling around on deck. "Well, I'd certainly say you've gotten their attention, but I wouldn't have minded some lights on so I could see the mark."

"You'll see him," said Chuck. "He'll be the one walking in straight lines."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

On a lower deck…

Frost emerged from shadow as the tall man strode past, his footsteps brisk and purposeful. She knew of Armand more than she knew him. Volkoff liked to keep his security teams separated, and clearly this man knew his way around Volkoff's floating fortress. He would lead her where she needed to go. "Tonight it ends," she said, a promise or a prayer. She didn't have to tell Sarah to be quiet as they followed Armand into the bowels of the ship.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Looking down from the upper deck to the lower deck…

"Well, well, well."

"What…?" said Frost, aiming her pistol upwards.

"I'd move if I were you, Casey," said Carina.

Chuck pushed Casey out of the way as he vaulted the rail, landing on the deck below at his wife's feet. He swept her into his arms as the rest of his team descended the stairs.

"I wouldn't have shot him," said Frost.

"I wasn't talking about you," said Carina. She left to keep tabs on their quarry as the others tried to coordinate their plans.

Or not. "You aren't supposed to be here," said Frost. "I have the situation under control."

"Yeah," said Casey. "I saw how much control you had last night."

Sarah let go of Chuck and latched on to Casey for a huge hug.

"Don't sweat it Sarah," said Casey, patting her awkwardly on the back. "Let that be a lesson, next time you try to kill me, bring a bigger building."

"Fine," said Frost. "You can be my backup."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Carina's marks led then deep within the ship, to the top of a set of stairs. She pointed, and they saw some guards on the next level, in front of a secure door and a computer access panel. They moved into the shadows and waited. Eventually Armand left the room and retraced his steps, returning to his master. Frost raised her pistol and moved toward the stairs. Chuck held up a hand and stuck his finger in the barrel, pushing the gun down. He raised his tranq pistol and shot both guards in the neck. They collapsed, losing consciousness faster than they could yell, move, or aim.

"The benefit of tranq pistols," he said quietly. "Silent but not deadly."

They gathered in front of the door. Chuck plugged in his phone as Casey, Sarah, and Carina dragged the guards away.

Frost looked on with approval. "You came prepared."

Chuck smiled up at her. "What did you bring?"

"Hairspray and shaving gel."

"Wow, you too?" _Gotta love the classics._

"You could just try the key," said Carina, walking up and sliding her trophy through the slot in one motion. "The guard had it on him." She tossed it to Chuck, stepped through the portal, and turned. "Ta-da."

The door slid shut. They heard a shout, something monosyllabic and probably not very polite. "What's happening?" said Chuck.

"Lasers," said Carina. "Very powerful lasers."

"Hold on, Carina, I'll get you out. I'm opening the door right…now."

"Wrong door, genius."

"If you can get through it you should be able to disable the lasers and open the door," said Frost.

"…You're kidding, right?"

"Come on, Carina, you're always going on about how limber you are, how flexible…" said Chuck.

"That's true."

"This should be a piece of cake for you."

"It should be."

"Or are you just gonna let Volkoff have his way with you?"

"Them's fightin' words, mister. I'm the only way-haver in _this_ room!"

Chuck and Frost listened as Carina moved, slid, squirmed, and wiggled her way through the barrier, grunting and groaning with the effort and some of the contortions she was putting herself through.

Someone large grunted over their heads as they listened at the door. "She better not be doing what it sounds like, Bartowski."

"Lasers, Casey."

Heh. "Hurry it up, Miller," he said loudly, "Haven't got all night."

"Goddammit. I'm stuck."

Casey raised a brow. "You?"

"Yeah, me. I don't normally practice the Kama Sutra with fins on my shoes."

Chuck went back to his controls. "Hold on, Carina."

"Oh, oh, no! Stop! They're moving! Ah! Hey!"

Frost got out her hairspray just as the screen under Chuck's thumbs blinked green. The door opened, and they saw the blue glow of the lasers as they winked out, leaving nothing but scraps of rubberized cloth. "Carina?"

She stepped out and stood in the doorway. "Guess it's a good thing I wore underwear this time."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Frost shouldered her way past, finally within sight of her goal.

Chuck moved past her, with a quick murmur of "Glad to see you're all right." His eyes looked into hers, full of concern.

Casey moved past, looking anywhere but at her.

Carina looked at the last member of the team with fading hopes. "Show me some love, Sarah?" Sarah gave her a coat. "Oh, come on!" Then she realized how bloody cold it was in that room, and shrugged into the coat gratefully. She'd made Casey avert his eyes, and Chuck act all gentlemanly, that would have to do.

Frost was busy moving holographic screens around, while Chuck was over in the corner admiring the hardware and Casey and Sarah checked for all the bad stuff.

"We're in time," said Frost. "Alexei hasn't managed to make another backup yet. The only head for this Hydra to go to is ours!"

"Voice identification required," said the computer.

"Mom?"

"Got it," said Frost. She pulled a preprogrammed phone, with only one app on it, and plugged it in. "It's loaded with most of the commonest words in the language, spoken by Alexei. Like an electronic lockpick, but with words." She activated the app.

Alarms blared.

"Time to go," said Carina.

"You go," said Frost. "I came here to finish it and that's what I'll do, even if I have to scuttle the ship to make it happen."

"Let's all go," said Casey, using his mass to herd everyone toward the door.

The door opened in front of them, but all the armed men behind it prevented them from making an exit. They backed against the computers, so no one would try to shoot them out of hand. The room secure, Alexei made his entrance, followed by Vivian and Armand. Alexei's glare swept the room, but lingered on the one he'd trusted most.

"Faster than even I expected," he said. "When your husband declared his intentions I took immediate steps to secure all the things I valued most. Hydra will no longer accept electronic inputs, but it never occurred to me that you would be so willing to be taken as he is to take you from me."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Alexei. I burned those bridges years ago. The only people in America who even know I'm alive think I'm a traitor."

"Then explain this to me." He pulled her close and tapped at a screen, bringing up a recent file. _I want my wife back, Alexei._ "Anything to say, Frost?"

Chuck stepped out from behind a server. "Only that you're talking to the wrong wife."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

**A/N2 **Did Frost have any plan for breaking into the server room, in canon? She didn't seem very prepared for the ultimate mission of her life. Chuck did all the hacking and she seemed amazed that Hydra needed a password.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N** The Seduction Impossible, part 2. The final confrontation, in a small space with relatively little physical movement. And a very small Easter Egg.

One of my regular reviewers, Molotov, maintained that Frost having any opinion on Chuck's abilities was ridiculous, considering how long she's been away, and I agreed with him.

And once again my scene break lines are vanishing.

* * *

><p>"<em>What am I remembering?"<em>

"_I doubt he's ready for war."_

"_You came prepared."_

"_You're talking to the wrong wife."_

* * *

><p>Frost stared at her son in surprise. Her own plans ruined, he was her only hope to retrieve something from this fiasco that didn't involve high explosives and a high body count. Not the way she wanted her career in the CIA to end. She was a taker, not a breaker.<p>

Somehow Chuck had remained concealed when all the gun-toting thugs had pushed them up against the walls, but now he'd thrown away that slight tactical advantage, a level of subtlety she'd never have expected from him. As good as he was with his dart gun, he could have taken out all the goons in seconds, but lost the real chance. Alexei would simply go on the defensive, and they needed him to remain open. Safe behind his men, secure in his control of the situation, he was at his most vulnerable.

How odd that Chuck saw that and was ready to exploit it. The nine-year-old she remembered so well had never been much of a planner, but that was twenty years ago. What did she know about him now? Not as much as she ought to have, obviously. What she'd said to Alexei weeks ago was true, but not in the way she thought. Her son was her weakness, a gap in her knowledge. The man she'd met in the playground hadn't seemed so different from the boy she'd left behind. Butting into that meeting with Wainwright was exactly the sort of thing the son she knew would do, and she butted him out again as harshly as she dared.

Then Ellie, solid, trustworthy Ellie, told her Chuck really was Mr. Charles, and she realized how much Mother Mary had made a hash of Agent Frost's plans. Fortunately, and through no plan of her own, since then she'd spent more time with his team than with him. They spoke as eloquently about the man as the man himself did, and in more manageable amounts.

Sarah. A wife that frightened a cadre of armed guards that she herself had trained. Terrorizing most of Thailand was also pretty good. She would die for Chuck. She would kill for Chuck. Most important she lived for Chuck, and really, what more could any mother-in-law ask for?

Casey and Miller. Clearly breakers, the pair of them. A team that thought 'Chuck has a plan' was equivalent to 'we're gonna kick ass and take names', and they would ride that plan even if it was a roller-coaster ride through Hell itself. They'd make whatever mess Chuck wanted them to make.

He'd _graduated_ spy school as a Special Agent, a level of autonomy and authority that most agents never achieve. _Oh my god, he outranks me!_

At nine he'd been a breaker himself, but somewhere along the line he'd learned to be an even better fixer, rarer than rare. She could only wait, be prepared, and hope he could fix this.

* * *

><p>Vivian peeked shyly over her father's shoulder. He was here. He was here! <em>And didn't he look wonderful in that form-fitting…ooh.<em>

Would he remember her?

Vivian took a step to the right, out of Agent Charles' direct line of sight but his eyes didn't move. Of course he was staring at her father, everyone always did. Unless she tried to make herself even the slightest bit presentable, then she'd get the world's attention, but who'd want it?

Her hair needed fixing, her clothes were all wrong. The one time she looked decent, she'd had a mask on! _Why me?_

* * *

><p>"Agent Charles," said Alexei, sounding pleased. His men were less pleased, shifting aim and positions to cover the new arrangement of targets. "Come for the missus?" He burst out laughing. "You didn't need to go to all this trouble, you know," he said, his jovial tone sliding into menace. "I'd have mailed her back to you with just a phone call."<p>

Chuck said nothing, his face unrevealing of his thoughts.

"That's the problem with your generation," said Alexei, suddenly. "No panache! There's no style, no verbal sparring, the give and take that makes villainy worth engaging in. Orion would have given me a bit of what-for, before we got down to brass tacks."

"Orion grew up and moved on," said Chuck. "He left you to me, as a sort of…graduation exercise." Which was kind of insulting to everyone else on his team but they would know he had to keep Volkoff's attention focused on him right now.

"A touch!" Volkoff clapped a hand to his chest melodramatically. "A touch, I do confess it! Still, you have some shoes to fill, I'm sure you're aware. I assume you have a plan."

"I'm sorry, Alexei," said Chuck. "Are you asking me to make the classic villain mistake of explaining my dastardly plot?" Suddenly he smiled. "You know what, I'd love to." He stepped forward, leaving the safety of his position between the servers. "Once Agent Walker revealed the nature of Hydra to us–in Rio, just in case you missed that turn–I have to admit we had no real idea where to go looking for your little bolt hole here. I decided to let you lead us to it. So, on behalf of the CIA, and the NSA, I'd like to say…I really hope you got a good deal on this crappy old tub, considering what it cost you."

The rumble of jet engines somewhere above their heads, above the ship itself, penetrated the insulation of the room. Chuck dusted off his hands. "Hydra captured, something I can check off my to-do list."

Volkoff shook his head sadly. "Charles, Charles, you've made an elementary error. There's a big difference between contained and captured. Allow me to demonstrate." At his gesture, men stuck guns into Chuck's face. "I may be contained, temporarily, but y_ou_ are captured. Do you see your mistake now?" Volkoff dusted off his hands. "A lesson for you, Agent Charles. _Real_ professionals know what they're about."

Chuck's voice went up an octave. "That's not really relevant, is it? As long as it's on this boat Hydra isn't going anywhere but a CIA computer."

Volkoff looked down at the screen where Frost had been working. "Since you were already planning to transmit Hydra to your computer, I see no reason why I can't transmit it to mine." He moved screens around with swift and certain flicks of his fingers, entering new destination codes. "The downside to mere containment. Much easier to escape than capture."

"Voice identification required," said the computer.

Volkoff leaned close to the speaker, but he stared at Chuck the entire time. "'Death is the solution to all problems.'"

"Voice identification accepted," said the computer's speaker in a pleasant female monotone. "Welcome to the Hydra Mainframe Interface . How may I help you?"

Frost pressed her lips together. _Oh Chuck, you didn't…_

Volkoff frowned down at the screen. "What?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't get that. Please identify yourself for access."

He leaned close to the speaker and enunciated very clearly. "I am Alexei Volkoff."

"I'm sorry, I didn't get that. Did you say 'nine pallets of oilcloth'?"

Carina covered her mouth with one hand, while Casey coughed into his fist.

Alexei Volkoff found himself with a passionate desire to throw something on the floor, but he had an image to uphold. He drew a finger across the screen, glaring daggers at his nemesis. "What have you done, Charles?"

"I'm sorry," said the computer, "I didn't get that…"

Volkoff looked down, slashing at the screen again, but it didn't clear. "Blast."

"Did you say 'flashed'?" asked the computer helpfully.

Alexei took off his coat, folded it up, and placed the wad of cloth over the speaker.

"You did say it would no longer accept electronic inputs," said Chuck, his voice low and calm once again. "I needed your voiceprint to really, you know–" he dusted his hands together slightly "–_capture_ it, so, thank you for that."

Frost watched Volkoff's face go white, then red. He took a deep breath, and all the henchmen readied their weapons. Suddenly Volkoff burst out laughing, applauding his foe. "Well done, Charles, well done. It's true what they say, there's no fool like an old fool." He sighed. "Except a new fool. You do realize there's a step down from 'captured', don't you?"

Chuck shrugged. "Yes, but so what?" he said in Russian. "Those machine guns are good for show, but you can't use those things in here, unless you plan to kill Hydra too. You can't kill us, Alexei."

The guards look around hesitantly, suddenly aware that they were effectively unarmed.

Volkoff pulled his pistol. "But I can use _this_ in here and I can kill _you_, Agent Charles!"

* * *

><p><em>Oh God, that was just his opening move…?<em>

Of course it was, it had to be. The HMI was a good ploy, but it was just a ploy. It could be defeated with time, so Chuck had to deny Volkoff the time. Stripping away his 'protection' was a good move, but so very dangerous.

Frost tensed, well aware that an armed Vivian stood behind her. She'd been trained to use the gun properly, but no amount of training could make her use it, and Frost had no idea which way she'd jump.

Chuck made a casual gesture and she settled back, taking her cue from him. She only had one card to play in this game and she had to play it right.

* * *

><p>Chuck smiled, not even looking at the guns. "So I guess this would be a good time to tell you that I'm not Agent Charles?"<p>

"Another one of your tricks?" sneered Volkoff.

"No trick, Alexei," said Chuck calmly. "If I've learned one thing about the spy world, all right, _two_ things, it's that the best place to hide something from a spy is in plain sight. Agent Charles was an alias, an illusion. You didn't penetrate it, so I decided to make it easy for you. He's already dead, I killed him last night."

"I suppose next you're going to tell me that Agent Walker really is your wife."

Chuck raised his hand, and held out a gold ring. "You learn quickly, Alexei. I'm impressed." He knelt down amongst friends and enemies alike, holding the ring out to Sarah between thumb and forefinger. "Please?"

Sarah stepped forward and held out her left hand. Chuck slid the ring into its proper place.

* * *

><p>"NO!" shrieked Vivian, drawing her gun.<p>

Frost and Alexei reacted instinctively, pulling back from her line of fire, exposing yet more of the tableau to Vivian's horrified eyes. Charles, kneeling. Walker, grinning fiendishly, casting the room into darkness as she pulsed with a hideous, blood-red light.

Chuck looked up at the sound and saw a gun pointing at Sarah. He rose to stand between them.

_Defending that…trollop!_ Every worthwhile thing in Vivian's life was done because of him, and now what? Vivian's thoughts ran ever faster, as splinters and shards of emotion attached to words sheared off in all directions. Wife! Married.

Tricked. Used. He'd been making a fool of her all along! The gun followed her rage to its new target.

* * *

><p>Frost grabbed the gun in proper fashion, pushing the barrel up and away, twisting the body to either make Vivian let go or break her fingers. The move took Vivian by surprise, and she came out of it with fingers intact. Frost stepped around Vivian as Alexei raised his own weapon, keeping her neck in a choke hold, and pressed the gun against the back of her head.<p>

Vivian froze, reminded forcibly that Frost was a very practiced and efficient killer.

"You really shouldn't have done that, Vivian," Frost said fiercely. "I have no quarrel with you, but you pointed a gun at my son and I can't allow that."

* * *

><p>Alexei's gun fell out of line. "Your son. Really?"<p>

"Yes, Alexei," said Mary Bartowski. "Agent Charles is my son."

"That's Bartowski, Mom," said Chuck. "Special Agent, you know what, never mind."

Volkoff looked at Chuck. "Really?"

Really her son or really a Special Agent? Same answer either way, but one was more insulting. "Really."

Alexei lowered the gun, and turned to look at Chuck, then back at Frost. "I should have known. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree." Back to Chuck. "So you were working with Orion all along?"

"Uh, well, no," said Chuck. "Otherwise we wouldn't have stepped on mom's plan like that. Heh." He made a show trying to see his mother behind Vivian. "Sorry, Mom."

"It's okay, dear," said Frost. "These things happen."

"Very true," said Volkoff sympathetically. "Your mother was a genius at finding little pinch points like that, Charles. Such stories I could tell you…" He held the gun up to his shoulder. "Well, this is a tangle, I must say." He looked over at Frost/Vivian. "I've got your son, but I don't dare threaten him–"

"I would end you," said Frost.

Volkoff turned to Chuck, grinning, shaking his fist excitedly. "And she would, too, even if it doomed us all. Not one for empty threats, your mother." Then he looked back at Frost/Vivian. "Of course, I feel the same way about my daughter, so we're all equal there. My men are aware of the danger they're truly in–and thank you for that little revelation, Charles–so it's really just a matter of time before one of them does something stupid, sparking off a chain of events that would likely result in all our deaths. We appear to be in a degenerating stalemate."

"I accept your surrender," said Chuck.

Volkoff got a good laugh at that, and put his gun away. "I did say 'appear', didn't I, Charles? As Frost just reminded me, these things happen. Hydra makes a new restore point every twelve hours, which is tied to my retina scan. No voice input required."

Armand took the hint and activated the scanning station.

"Ah," said Chuck weakly, "How clever of you."

"Oh, don't be too hard on yourself, Charles," said Volkoff, oozing sincerity. "You played a good game for a beginner, but you trumped your own ace. That's no way to win. Better luck next time." Armand went to stand directly in front of Chuck as Alexei took his position in front of the scanner. Sarah pushed Chuck further back, taking a position in front of Armand.

Chuck watched over both their shoulders as Alexei looked into the cowl, as light bloomed on the skin around his eyes. As Alexei Volkoff slid away from the console and fell on the floor in a heap.

Frost loosened her grip in surprise, but Vivian was a daughter, not a fighter. "Father!" she cried, pushing out of Frost's grasp to run to her father's side.

Armand turned at the terror in her voice, his last mistake.

Carina dropped her coat and struck a pose. The henchmen ogled, their last mistake.

"Put your coat back on," said Casey as they gathered weapons and secured the former bearers.

"Don't be jealous." Still, she put her coat on. Wouldn't do to distract the poor boy.

Chuck and Sarah ran to Volkoff's side. "You murderer!" screamed Vivian. She attacked him, but Frost got to her before Sarah could.

"I better not be," said Chuck, feeling for a pulse. There it was, good and strong. "There we go," he said in relief.

Sarah knelt by her husband's side, relieved at his relief. Her husband was a good man. The best man.

"Chuck, what did you do?" asked Frost.

"You remember that panel in our basement?" Chuck asked, and Frost nodded. "El–_Doctor_ perfected the code. I'm sorry I trumped your ace, Mom, but I had to make sure he looked into the retina scan." He reached up and grabbed Hartley's coat from where he'd covered the speaker, putting it under his head as a pillow.

"Oh, thank God," said Frost, closing here eyes and resting her head against the nearest surface, which happened to be Vivian's shoulder.

"What does that mean?" said Vivian angrily. "What did you do to him?"

"I, uh…hmm. Not really sure how to explain it."

"I'm sorry, I didn't get that…"

"Agent Bartowski zero-zero-one."

"Hibernation mode activated."

Frost raised her head and sniffed. "Your father's real name is Hartley Winterbottom," she said to Vivian. "His cover identity was Alexei Volkoff. He…developed a form of amnesia, and came to believe his cover identity was his real identity."

"Really?"

Frost sighed. "No, not really, but it's the only version of the truth I can give you." She let the younger woman go. "The details are extremely classified."

Vivian held on to Frost's arm, the strongest support around. "So when he wakes up, he'll be this Hartley person? Will he remember me?"

"I don't know, Vivian. I hope he does, but that's all I hope he remembers. Hartley was a kind and gentle man. The memories of what he did as Volkoff can do nothing but hurt him."

Carina and Casey came up just then, laden with stolen gear. "We need to get a move on, Chuck," said Casey. "Those jets don't exactly hover, you know."

Chuck looked up at Carina, saw her lips looking a little purplish, and not from bruising. "You and Carina, take Vivian with you. With Volkoff down, she's the closest thing to an authority on the ship." He looked up at the former Miss Volkoff, not sure what she was now. "Vivian, we need your help. The ship and Hydra will be taken into custody, but I don't want any blood spilled doing that. Can you help us, get your men to stand down?"

She nodded. "All right."

Once they left Chuck contacted General Beckman.

"Agent Bartowski, what is your status?"

Grinning, Chuck gave his mother the go-ahead. "General Beckman, this is Agent Mary Bartowski, code named Frost, reporting the successful completion of Project Isis." She was shivering, and it had nothing to do with the cold. How long she'd waited to say that!

"Congratulations, Agent Frost."

Tears were leaking from Frost's eyes, but her voice was steady. "Not me. It was all Chuck's doing."

Sarah took his hand.

"No agent succeeds alone, Mary, but I'm sure you know that. The Hydra database is secured?" asked Beckman.

Frost nodded, and smiled nostalgically, not that Beckman would see either. "With a toy program my husband developed as a joke." Now her voice started to go.

Sarah's thumb rubbed Chuck's wedding ring, tracing the circle around his finger. Round and round.

"And Alexei Volkoff?" asked Beckman, less certainly.

"Checking now, General," said Chuck, unzipping his suit. He pulled out a slim cylinder and slammed it against Hartley's leg.

Hartley's breathing sped up, and Chuck leaned his head down close. "What is your name?" After a few seconds, he said again, "What is your _name_?"

Frost saw Hartley's chest rise and fall, but the sounds of the room masked anything else.

Chuck looked up. "He said 'Hartley'!"

Sarah's fingers hurt, and she looked down. She was squeezing her husband's ring. Her ring, on his finger, eternal and endless.

So calming.

Frost smiled, happier than she could remember. "And he saved Hartley."

"Excellent work, Agents Bartowski. Together you have hindered the development of Volkoff's criminal empire, captured his entire operation at one stroke, depleted the population of criminal elements throughout Europe, and saved the life of an innocent man. The President will hear of this." It wasn't often she got to be the bearer of glad tidings, so she took every opportunity she could get.

Sarah took her hand away from Chuck's. "Look at that," she said, her voice a tad rusty. "I win again."

Chuck forgot everything else. "Sarah?"

"I love you," said Sarah, pressing her lips to his, and for them the world became a very small place, just big enough for two.

"I'm sorry," said Beckman. "I didn't get that."

"Nothing, General," said Frost, drinking it in. "When can we expect support?"

"The Royal Navy is sending a prize crew. After our incursion on their soil, we had to give them a piece of the action. You'll be extracted by chopper and fast-tracked back home."

"No rush, General," said Frost. _Home is where the heart is._ "We'll be here."

* * *

><p><strong>AN2 **A typical Chuck relationship. They were married before they had a wedding, and had a wedding before he proposed. The proposal plot was such a large (and unnecessary) part of season four I decided to at least give it an homage here.

Beckman telling the President is a borrow from another great story, "What Would You Like?" by stars90.


End file.
